Ask Me Nicely
by celeste9
Summary: Stephen has a tiny crush. Becker takes advantage. Becker/Stephen


_****_A/N: Written for Kink Bingo, 'begging'. Set in a magical happy place where Stephen didn't die, but it's not explained here as it wasn't important to the fic, if that bothers you then don't read it.

_**Ask Me Nicely**_

Becker was posing with the Mossberg. Again.

He had to be doing it on purpose, Stephen decided. No one posed that suggestively or with that much clear intention to look cool without it being on purpose. It should have been a total turn-off but instead Stephen kept thinking of all the dirty things he'd like to do to Becker.

Or have Becker do to him. He wasn't fussy.

"Staring again, mate," Connor said as he went by, fiddling with the handheld anomaly detector.

Bugger. Stephen shook himself and went in search of Cutter, trying to at least pretend to be doing something useful.

* * *

Stephen wasn't sure how he'd managed to end up with Becker playing guard dog as he collected samples in the Jurassic, Lester having reluctantly granted permission for a short excursion. Why couldn't Becker have gone with Cutter? Stephen would have been quite happy with Private Taylor instead. He also would have been quite happy if the soldiers Becker had brought with them would narrow their perimeter a bit so Stephen wouldn't feel so much like he and Becker were completely alone.

It was blisteringly hot and Becker's black shirt was clinging to his chest in a way that made Stephen's trousers feel too tight. Sweat was trickling down his neck and he was trying not to think about how much he'd like to slide his tongue over the sweat on Becker's skin, or twist his fingers in the hair that was curling damply at the nape of his neck. If it didn't feel so much like he and Becker were the only humans present for miles, perhaps he'd be able to better resist the urge to jump Becker and shag him against the nearest tree.

"Hey, Hart," Becker said, waving a hand. "Isn't that a dead dinosaur?"

"What?" Stephen looked where Becker was pointing and then jogged over, letting the soldier follow. Sprawled on the ground was, by the look of it, a very recently dead theropod. "Christ, look at it. I don't suppose we could take it back with us?"

Becker just raised an eyebrow and Stephen sighed. "I suppose not. Still, think of what we could learn with a proper autopsy."

"It's a dinosaur," Becker said, uninterested. "It's dead. We've loads of dead dinosaurs back home."

Stephen crouched down. "It's completely different, we don't have any soft tissue. Let me at least…" He moved the head, getting a look at the teeth, and then pulled out his camera, snapping some quick photos. "Help me shift its tail, I want a better shot of the hindquarters."

Becker obliged, though he made a face. "I can't say I ever wanted to be this up close and personal with a dinosaur's naughty bits."

Stephen grinned at him. "It will be very educational, trust me."

"Trust me, he says. You'd have us jumping into a herd of live ones if you thought we could learn something."

"Nah, that's more Cutter's thing. I might follow him, though."

Becker watched him while he clambered up and around the dinosaur, taking as many pictures as he could. "Photos are one thing but we're not staying long enough for you to cut this thing open, Hart."

"I thought you'd say that," Stephen said, masking his disappointment at the lost opportunity. "Probably best not to risk the smell attracting scavengers, anyway. But couldn't I just…" If he could at least cut open the stomach… "Give me your knife."

Becker was rolling his eyes but he said, "Ask me nicely."

Stephen eyed him sideways but Becker was just standing there, waiting, clearly not about to hand over his knife until Stephen did what he wanted. He stifled the urge to sigh. "Please can I have your knife, Captain Becker?"

Becker smirked and reached into his ankle sheath, flipping out the knife and handing it, hilt-first, to Stephen. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

His mouth, Stephen decided as he took the knife. That was what Stephen wanted first. He wanted to shove his cock so far down Becker's throat he gagged.

And, no. Stephen wouldn't ask nicely first.

* * *

Stephen stepped into the ARC showers and abruptly stopped, noticing that not only was he not alone, but he was faced with the last person he wanted to see. For a given degree of 'wanting', anyway.

"Sorry, I didn't realise you were in here." If he had, Stephen definitely would have come back later. Being in such close proximity to a wet, naked Becker wasn't exactly conducive to maintaining his front of 'not interested'.

"I don't mind."

Well, there really wasn't any getting out of it. Stephen carefully kept his eyes averted while hoping he wasn't obviously keeping his eyes averted, and walked over to one of the showerheads, squirting some gel into his hand. Best to get in and out as fast as possible. He didn't trust his dick anywhere near Becker.

It sounded like Becker was moving and then his voice came from disturbingly close. "I don't think you mind, either."

Stephen's hands slipped and he darted a glance sideways, to where Becker had settled under the very next showerhead. Jesus, he really looked amazing wet. The water was dripping down his neck over his broad chest and Stephen couldn't remember wanting anything as much as he wanted to lick those droplets right off Becker's tan skin. "It wouldn't be the first time I've shared a shower."

"Hmm," Becker said, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, and Stephen resisted the urge to pinch himself.

_Damn it, Stephen, sound more suggestive, could you?_

Becker reached up to shampoo his hair and Stephen couldn't help the flicker of his eyes over Becker's body, down and back up. Oh, damn. Bad idea.

Of course Becker noticed, despite Stephen immediately turning away, and he felt the back of his neck heat from more than just the water. He needed to get out of there. So much for being smooth.

"If you ask me very nicely, I'll take you home with me," Becker said.

Stephen stuck his hand out against the wall and leaned into it, closing his eyes. "What?"

And then Stephen felt Becker's body pressed against his back, Becker's hands on his hips and his mouth near Stephen's ear. "You think you're clever, don't you?"

Stephen tilted his head back unconsciously, rocking a tiny bit into Becker's evidently interested cock. "Not really, no."

"I know you've been watching me, Stephen."

"Have I?"

Becker slid around until they were face-to-face, his mouth close enough to kiss. "All you have to do is say please."

Fuck it, Stephen decided he wasn't that proud. "Please," he breathed.

He felt the curving of Becker's mouth and thought, _Please, please kiss me,_ but instead Becker pulled away, holding out his hand.

"Come on," he said. "I want to be able to take my time with you."

* * *

Stephen saw enough of Becker's flat to notice that it was almost painfully neat, ordered and bare and clearly Becker didn't spend much time there. Or else he actually didn't have a real personality, as they had often wondered, but Stephen figured he'd give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Perhaps you'd rather skip the sex and examine my flat instead? I can give you a tour, if you like."

"I'm good. I'd love a tour of the bedroom, though, if you don't mind."

Becker smiled. He should really do that more often. "Well, since you were so polite about it…" He headed through the living room, saying, "This way."

Stephen unashamedly watched Becker's backside as he followed. It was truly a fabulous arse and Stephen was looking forward to becoming better acquainted with it.

_Nice bed, _he noticed as they reached the bedroom and then Becker slammed him against the wall, rocking his hips into Stephen's and leaving no doubts as to the fact that he wanted Stephen as much as Stephen wanted him.

But he still only leant in just close enough for Stephen to feel his warm breath and to smell his shampoo. Well, fuck that, the bloody tease. Stephen curled his fingers behind Becker's neck and brought their mouths together, kissing with intent. Clearly there was no point in being gentle or coy about it as they both knew what they were here for.

Becker slid his mouth across Stephen's jaw, his hands worming their way underneath the hem of his shirt to clutch at his bare skin. Stephen's head banged against the wall and he barely even noticed.

"Tell me what you'd like," Becker urged, his voice a low murmur.

Oh, Stephen would like a hell of a lot of things, but he'd start with the basics. "Clothes off," he said, wrestling with Becker's belt.

"Yes, please," Becker said with a tiny smirk, lifting his shirt off over his head.

Stephen took a moment to admire the sight before indulging himself. Becker wasn't wet any more but his skin was still just begging to be licked. Becker made an extremely gratifying noise in his throat, dragging his blunt nails up Stephen's back.

The rest of their clothes came off in an awkward tangle as they struggled to remove them without breaking too much contact. Stephen ended up shoved on his back on the bed with Becker pressing him downwards, kissing his mouth and his neck and his chest like he couldn't decide where to focus his attention.

"What do you want?" he asked again, kneeling over Stephen's hips and looking at him through his eyelashes.

Stephen pushed his shoulders down in what should have been a pretty unmistakable answer.

But Becker was grinning infuriatingly at him. "I'm not sure what you mean. You'll have to tell me more clearly."

"Fuck you."

"I don't think that was it."

"Christ," Stephen said. If Becker hadn't been so gorgeous and if Stephen hadn't been so turned-on he would've probably decided it wasn't worth the effort. He wasn't that good at this, the vocalising what he wanted. "Suck my cock already, you arsehole."

"That was certainly clear, but we'll have to work on being more polite." Becker was still smiling but he finally put his mouth to better use, leaning down and sucking the head of Stephen's cock between his lips.

Stephen breathed out through his mouth and arched his hips upwards, trying hard to keep his eyes on Becker because he thought he hadn't ever seen anything quite as hot as the impeccably tidy Becker being very dirty indeed.

Becker gave amazing head and Stephen tried not to think about all the jokes the soldiers had made when he'd first arrived, about exactly how he'd made captain so young. Unfortunately he pulled off way too quickly, making an obscene popping sound, his mouth wet and shiny. Stephen bit back his noise of protest and pulled Becker's hair.

"You're way too quiet," Becker said, pressing a fast, hard kiss to Stephen's mouth. "I'm going to have to do something about that."

"Finish blowing me and I'll yell your name when I come," Stephen tried. He pitched his voice higher. "Yes, Becker, yes!"

Becker laughed. "You're a liar, but nice try." He flicked his fingers over Stephen's nipple and sucked at his neck. "Let's make a deal. You don't get to come until you're begging me for it."

"That doesn't seem like much of a deal," Stephen said, arching his neck and scrabbling his fingers against Becker's back. "What do I get out of it?"

"That's easy." Becker kissed his way back to Stephen's mouth and then paused there, smiling this tremendously cocky smile, his face close enough that Stephen noticed his eyes weren't nearly as dark as he'd thought they were. "You get me."

Stephen was going to roll his eyes and say something disparaging but then Becker's finger was twisting in his hole and instead Stephen found he was choking back a groan.

Becker's smile turned even smugger, if that was possible. "See? That's better already."

He then proceeded to set about finding all the places that made Stephen squirm, using lips and teeth and tongue, his hands and his short nails. Stephen was breathing heavily though he couldn't do much more than lie there and let Becker drive him crazy, touching Becker wherever and whenever he could reach. His cock was aching in spite of the fact that Becker was steadfastly ignoring it, going over every inch of Stephen's body except those few inches Stephen wanted him to touch most.

"You're so hot," Becker said in between leaving what was undoubtedly going to be a bruise on Stephen's collarbone. "Whoever taught you to hold back was a fucking idiot."

If only he knew. It was probably better he didn't. Stephen thrust his hips up against Becker in a quest for friction. "Just let me come. Maybe I'll scream."

Becker chuckled. "I doubt that very much." He slid sinuously down Stephen's body and for one glorious moment Stephen thought he was going to resume the blow job, but instead he sucked one of Stephen's balls into his mouth.

And, all right, Stephen decided he could do that instead. Except he stopped all too soon and moved back altogether, going to his bedside table and retrieving a small bottle.

Well, that was promising. Stephen spread his legs.

"You might be quiet, but you're certainly shameless," Becker said, looking amused. "Roll onto your front for me."

Stephen did, cradling his head on his forearms and giving his arse a wriggle just so Becker would be sure to have the right idea. Becker smacked him lightly and then dragged over a pillow to wedge beneath Stephen's hips, which was as good an indication as any that he was planning on taking his time.

And take his time he did, starting by giving this side of Stephen as much attention as he had Stephen's front, sliding his hands and his tongue over Stephen's skin. Stephen felt a bit like a warm ball of goo, completely relaxed, except for the way he really needed to come.

Becker moved slowly down Stephen's spine, inexorably closer to Stephen's arse, and as he pressed a kiss gently to the swell of one cheek, Stephen might have mewled a tiny bit. Becker did it again, making a small, pleased humming sound. After that came the careful press of Becker's fingertip against Stephen's hole, swirling around and slipping inside. Stephen shuddered and pressed his forehead down harder.

"Stephen," Becker said and slid his finger all the way in, twisting until he found Stephen's prostate.

Stephen gasped in surprise because, okay, that was quick.

"Just... just let me... Stephen," Becker said, working his finger in. And this wasn't a simple matter of getting from point A to point B, stretching him open so Becker could fuck him. This was Becker doing his best to make Stephen fall apart, like this was the whole point, like he was going to fuck Stephen with his fingers and nothing else, like he wanted to make Stephen come from only this.

The thing was, it was working. It was definitely working. He was so hard he felt like he was going to burst. It was almost embarrassing. But not as embarrassing as when he choked out, "Becker, fuck. Becker, I want, please..."

Becker - the utter _bastard _- removed his fingers and draped himself over Stephen's back."What? Tell me what you want, Stephen."

Stephen squeezed his eyes closed and swallowed his pride. "Want you, fuck. Want you in me when I come." If that didn't equate to keeping his end of the bargain, he didn't know what would.

Becker kissed the back of Stephen's shoulder and said, "Well, that would be my pleasure." He rolled off to the side and opened the drawer of his bedside table again, getting a condom. As Becker ripped the package open, Stephen climbed onto his hands and knees and waited.

"Look at you," Becker said in this faintly reverent tone that was nice for Stephen's ego. He ran his hand down the length of Stephen's back before gripping Stephen's hips and thrusting in gradually, slow and sure. Stephen bit his lip and pushed back, thinking there was a good chance he was going to come in a humiliatingly short amount of time. It wasn't fair, though, Becker had been torturing him. No one could withstand that.

Becker knelt back onto his heels and dragged Stephen with him, pulling him upright until Stephen was sitting on his cock. Stephen moved instinctively, sliding up and down, grazing his prostrate on every thrust.

And then Becker reached around him to clamp his fingers in a tight circle around the base of Stephen's cock.

"What the fuck?" Stephen said.

"We had a deal," Becker said lowly into his ear. "Remember? I'm not completely satisfied with your performance yet."

"You fucking bastard."

"Just let go," Becker urged, nuzzling Stephen's neck.

Stephen dug his nails into Becker's arms and then decided, _Sod this._ He exhaled in a ragged moan and let everything fall away but this, Becker's cock in his arse and Becker's body pressed to his, the way Becker _wanted _him. He raised his hips up and back down, fucking himself on Becker's cock. "Christ, Becker. Let me come, fuck."

"Yes," Becker said, that fancy, posh voice of his sounding wrecked. "Stephen, please." His grip loosened around Stephen's cock and he started to stroke, while Stephen sped up his movement.

Stephen came first, and he didn't exactly scream, but he certainly wasn't quiet either. The way Becker groaned his name a short time later was incredibly satisfying, his forehead pressed into the crook of Stephen's neck.

They weren't in an entirely comfortable position and they separated quickly, Stephen stretching out on his back while Becker went into the bathroom to get rid of the condom. He stared up at the white ceiling, in Becker's big, soft bed, and decided that he felt better than he had in quite a while. All things considered, it was worth a bit of begging.

Besides, it wasn't like Becker hadn't come across as rather needy himself. He'd clearly been doing some lusting of his own.

Becker returned with a towel, tossing it at Stephen, and got back into bed, lying on his back. "We could have done that a lot sooner if you'd just asked."

"You're a prick," Stephen said, dropping the dirty towel over the side of the bed.

"I think after that you should call me something a bit nicer."

"I'll think about it." Stephen combed his fingers through Becker's hair. Apparently it was possible for it to look messy - having sex before it had dried properly did the trick nicely. He could only imagine what his own hair looked like. "So now that we've had sex, do I get to find out your first name?"

A small smile touched Becker's mouth and he turned onto his side, rubbing his hand over Stephen's chest. "Maybe next time."

Stephen could live with that.

_**End**_


End file.
